


Loving You Is A Loaded Gun

by xal0nenowx



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Heavy Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 12:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15972008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xal0nenowx/pseuds/xal0nenowx
Summary: The end of the curse lies within one of their own.





	Loving You Is A Loaded Gun

**Author's Note:**

> Can I just apologize ahead of time?  
> This thought crossed my mind last year and I just couldn't get it out of my head. I tried pawning it off to others, but I realized it would be cruel to force someone else to inflict this level of emotional damage on everyone. I'd have to do it myself.   
> I'm sorry LMFAO  
> This will most likely be a multi-chapter fic, but I have another major story i'm working on for a different fandom and it's taking most of my free time. Hopefully i'll be able to work on this one when I get breaks!

LOVING YOU IS A LOADED GUN

 

 

“No.”Wynonna swallowed the emotional boulder in her throat.

“Wynonna.” Doc began.

“Not a chance.” She shook her head.

“Wynonna.” Jeremy tried his luck, the rest of the room processing the information they just discovered.

“What’d I say?” she laughed ruefully.

“Wynonna…” that voice crumbling the resolve she tried desperately to maintain.

“This—” she started with her voice raised before the tremble stopped her. “This isn’t happening.” She finished in a near whisper, tossing peacemaker onto the kitchen table and walking out the front door, into the frigid winter.

 

“I… I got it.” Waverly said softly as Doc turned toward the door. She gave Nicole a weak smile and light squeeze of the hand before she followed after the heir.

The younger woman stepped into the barn and saw Wynonna perched on a pile of hay in the corner, hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, foot bouncing, but whether that was from the cold or the situation, Waverly couldn’t be sure. The tears on her sisters cheeks glistening in the soft rays of moonlight beaming through the cracks in the wood. She made her way across the barn and opened her mouth to speak when she was cut off by a sharp head shake.

“Don’t.” Wynonna’s voice was thick and hoarse from holding back the tears that hadn’t escaped yet.

Waverly watched the pillar of strength, sarcasm, and wit beginning to crumble, so she held up her hands in defeat and opted to sit on the small, wooden stool against the opposite wall.

“We’ll find another way.” Wynonna said, her eyes never leaving the toe of her boots.

“I think we both know there won’t be one.” Waverly said, her voice gentle and resolute.

“There has to be.” Wynonna breathed, the sob that had been building for the last five minutes finally breaking free from her throat, the tears pouring down both icy cheeks. Waverly stood and walked to the brunette, sitting on the hay and wrapping her arms around the woman as she cried.

 

 

Wynonna sat in the chair by the fire, her gaze locked on the flames. The others engaged in lighthearted conversation, willfully ignoring the elephant in the room. The end to curse of Bulshar, the end of the Earp curse, the end of their supernatural shitstorm lies within the arms of an angel. Their light, their peace, the unwavering love that tied them all together. Extinguishing that light would bring forth the end of the revenants, but it would dim their entire world in the process.

They had fought, searched for alternatives, anything they could to avoid the inevitable, but alas, it proved to be a moot point. They’d gone through the five stages of grief, each in their own time. Well, all but one of them. One was still firmly planted in denial, with a bottle of Jack in hand. The lighthearted banter wearing thin, she stood and sauntered upstairs, four pairs of eyes following her ascent.

“No change?” Jeremy asked, turning his beer bottle on the table.

“No. She hasn’t even looked at me since last week.” Waverly sighed, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. Nicole reached out and lightly rubbed the girl’s shoulder as they each took swigs from their drinks.

 

The sound of laughter echoed downstairs as Wynonna stepped into the bedroom. She climbed into the middle of the queen sized bed and sat back against the tufted headboard, remembering two years ago when she did the exact same thing after pulling the trigger that ended Willa. That hurt less.

The brunette took a large sip of the whisky and placed the bottle on the nightstand, grabbing one of the pillows and wrapping her arms around it. The burn of the whisky was soon replaced by the sting of tears as the soft citrus scent engulfed her, the scent that was distinctly Waverly. The hum downstairs was drowned out by the blood rushing in her ears. She wasn’t sure how long she had sobbed into the pillow when the door cracked open. She didn’t need to lift her eyes to know who was with her.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Waverly took a deep breath and placed a hand on Wynonna’s knee. The flinch beneath her touch was a sucker punch to the gut. She released a shaky breath and wrapped her arms around herself. “Everybody went home.” Waverly said softly.

“Good.” Wynonna’s voice was worn. Bloodshot blue eyes gazed toward the window, the moonlight dancing through the blinds.

“You okay?” Waverly asked. A stupid question, she knew. But any response from the older girl was a win in her book these days.

“Never better.” She would take monotone sarcasm over silence.

“Are you ever gonna look at me again?” Waverly almost whispered.

Wynonna’s eyes clamped shut as the air left her lungs and she turned her head farther into her shoulder. A fresh flood of tears slipped through tight lids, the moisture glistening across her cheeks in the moonlight.

“Wynonna, please.”

“I can’t, Waves.” She whispered back.

Tears sprung from emerald eyes and she shook her head, frustration growing. “This is hard for me too, ya know. You’re not the one that has to die!” She spat, moving to stand from the bed when a hand caught her wrist.

“You’re not the one that has to pull the trigger.” The words hung in the air, Wynonna’s eyes never leaving the window.

 


End file.
